His Share of Glory The Complete Short Science Fiction

"In my case, attempted murder," replied Lawrence. "In Train's, blackmail and theft. At least, so we are given to understand."

"Of course," said the man behind the desk, writing in the information.

"It is my duty as administrator of this asteroid to inform you as well as I may of your functions here and what treatment you may expect."

He coughed and sat up straighter. "You may well wonder," he began pretentiously, "why you have been sent to this bleak spot to expiate your sin against society."

"Rebellion against the Syndicate, you mean," snapped Train harshly.

"Be that as it may," continued their informant with a shrug, "this is an officially constituted place of detention under charter and supervision by the Terrestrial League. Certain cases are sent to us for corrective measures associated formerly with World Research Incorporated.

Therefore, it is only proper that they should be assigned to experimental work tending to advance the progress of humanity and raise its cultural level.

"Your work will be a sort of manufacturing process of an extremely delicate nature. However, mechanical controls and checks will make blunders and errors impossible after a short period of instruction. You two men have been technicians of a high order of skill; let us hope that you will redeem yourselves by application to your assigned task."

He sat back with a smile. "Now, unless there are any questions—"

"There damn well are," snapped Lawrence. "In the first place, is there any communication with the outside world?"

"None whatsoever. Evil influences might convince you that all here is not for the best, and persuade you to foolish acts of violence. We leave nothing to chance."

Train had had enough; he was going to get this soft-spoken fiend if it were his last living act. With a snarl in his throat he leaped at the desk, only to bring up smashing his face against some invisible barrier.

Amazed, he put his hands over the frozen, quite transparent surface between his tormenter and him.

"Superglass," said the man quietly, smiling as on a child. "As I said, we leave nothing to chance."

"This is your cell," said the guard—one they had not seen before. He waved them into a spotless chamber, small and square, featuring two comfortable bunks and elaborate sanitary facilities.

Train sat on one of the bunks, dazed. "I can't understand it," he burst out suddenly and violently. "This whole business is rotten with contradictions."

"What do you mean?" asked Lawrence absently, switching the faucet on and off.

"It's this sort of thing. They stuck us on this asteroid to die, we know.

And yet, look at this room! Perfect for comfort and health. Consider our reception: a very skillful welcome designed to soothe one's ruffled spirit and put him in a cooperative frame of mind. Of course, it didn't happen to work with us, because we have very special rages against the system and all it stands for."

"It's very simple," said Lawrence thoughtfully. "They don't want us on Earth and they do want us here very badly."

"Simple?" Train snorted. "I could have been shot down like a dog in Hartly's office two weeks ago, and yet he packed me off here at a terrible expense in salaries, fuel, and wear of the ship. I don't think it was fear of punishment of any kind that stopped him from destroying me then and there. They need me out on this chunk of rock. And I think it has something to do with where the place is, too."

"How so?"

"Like this. It stands to reason that if you put an asteroid in a tight orbit as near as this to the sun, you need a lot of power—expensive power—

to keep her there. It would be a lot easier and cheaper to put the orbit out somewhere between Jupiter and Neptune, and would be fully as accessible, or inaccessible, all depending on how you look at it. Ships wouldn't have to have sun-armor, which costs plenty, and they wouldn't run the risk of getting caught in an electric twister or prominence."

"So this place," said Lawrence slowly, "is more than a prison."

"Obviously. Remember the ancient motto: 'If it pays, they'll do it."'

"And if it doesn't, they won't. What was it that smiling gentleman said about congenial occupations commensurate with our training?"

"That's it! They manufacture something here that needs trained men and sunlight in huge quantities."

"Then why not hire workers? Why run the risk of having convicts responsible for the production of a valuable article or substance? It must be valuable, by the way. Just think of what it cost to get us here, to say nothing of the expense of building and maintaining this setup."

Train's face went grim. "I can guess. It must mean that there's a fair chance that the substance is so deadly that the men who manufacture it, even with all suitable and possible guards and shields, must be poisoned by it so that they die at their work after a time."

"Yes," said Lawrence, "you must be right." There was a long silence, then a guard banged his stick on their door.